Fixed point
It started when you slept in.
Or that's what you told yourself.
By afternoon the list had grown.
The people who texted. The noise.
The day that never really found its footing.
Then you turned it on yourself.
Which felt like accountability.
That part was wrong too.
But a bad morning ends.
That's its full size. A fixed point.
What doesn't end is the story you keep telling about it.
The morning cost you the morning.
Everything after that is a choice.
The morning has a limit. The story you keep telling about it doesn't.